Follow You Down To The Red Oak Tree
by Razzaroo
Summary: AU. It's not easy being an ex-Number in a world being overtaken by the Apostles.


**A/N. Writing something new even if I should be focussing on my other work ;_; Ah, well. **

**This fic is an accompaniment to one of my projects _House of Bones, _which is still in its early stages. The title and lyrics come from the song Follow You Down to the Red Oak Tree by James Vincent McMorrow.**

* * *

_follow you down to the red oak tree__  
__as the air moves thick through the hollow reeds_

* * *

"Do you really think anyone will find them?"

"Maybe."

Whenever they move on, Jenos carves their initials and numbers into a tree near their rental house or apartment. He says it's so the others can find them. Nizer's never believed that the others will even come looking for them; he believes they're presumed dead by the other Numbers or missing or something else that means they can't be traced.

Jenos has always been more optimistic than him.

This time it's an old flat by the river, with peeling linoleum tiles on the kitchen floor and a rickety balcony. There's an old oak tree in the courtyard in the front, with some of its roots exposed as a result of the last flood. The leaves are falling.

Jenos scrapes off some of the bark and pulls out his pen knife. He's quicker with it now, the carvings neater. Nizer puts their belongings in the car and waits for the other man to finish.

It's a small thing, just four letters and some Roman numerals on an old tree in a part of town no one ventures into, but its hope. Nizer's never really put much stock in hope; Numbers don't hope. But for now, it's all Jenos really has.

The other (ex)Number finishes his work and hobbles over, grimacing in pain. He still favours his left leg.

"You ready to go?"

Jenos hisses as he puts weight on his injured leg. He looks back on the tree but only for a moment.

"Yeah. Again."

* * *

_i will wait for you there until someone comes__  
__to carry me, carry me down_

* * *

"Another one with no elevator?"

"I did my best."

Jenos shrugs and limps into the building anyway, even the short distance between the car and the lobby causing him pain. Nizer follows him, leaving the bags in the back seat. Inside, he finds Jenos leaning heavily against the doorframe leading to the staircase. An old woman looks up from the book she is reading when Nizer walks past but quickly looks back down again. Jenos rubs at the injured area on his leg, just above the knee, and offers Nizer a weak smile.

"How is it?"

"Worse than usual."

Nizer pulls the other man's arm around his shoulders, allowing Jenos to lean on him for support. He takes a few steps forward, his pace slow, and Jenos takes hesitant and pained steps alongside him.

"You forgot our things."

"They're less effort to take upstairs. Unlike you."

"Shut up."

* * *

_see i have not i have not grown cold__  
__i have stole from men who have stole from those_

* * *

"The heating's broken down again."

"I'm not surprised."

Nizer takes the heat pack out of the microwave and wraps it in a towel before giving it to Jenos to put over his stiffened knee. Jenos has his injured leg propped up on the tattered foot rest left behind by the previous tenant.

The injury itself doesn't seem to be getting better; Jenos says the cold's gotten into it. Nizer promises to get the heating looked at. For now, though, Jenos has to make do with heat packs and the thickest quilts they own.

It's not much. Not with this mid-autumn chill.

There's a knock at the door and they both look up when the handle turns and the door creaks open. The owner of the block of flats, a tall and thin woman with grey hair twisted into a tight bun, pokes her head into the apartment. Her lips are drawn into a tight line. She holds a brown paper bag out, towards Nizer. Jenos shows her his most charming smile but she doesn't respond to him.

"You left this in the lobby."

Nizer stands and takes the bag from her but before he can thank her, she turns and slams the door behind her.

He wonders if she knows who they are, if she'd turn them in if someone came knocking.

"What's that?"

"Medicine for you. I picked it up after work."

There's a pause. Jenos hides his hands under the quilt, trying to warm them up.

"You stole it, didn't you?"

"It's not stealing. Not if it was just left behind."

"No one leaves medicine behind."

"They do on the run. You know that."

* * *

_with their arms so thin and their skin so old__  
__but you are young, you are young, you are young_

* * *

The elderly man from the flat next door has come around. He's mainly there to complain about the coughing he hears at night, saying that Jenos wouldn't have this problem if he didn't smoke so much.

Nizer doesn't really see the point in saying it's him who smokes, not Jenos. It wouldn't make the old man any happier. After living in the block for just over two months, he's learnt how cantankerous their neighbour can be.

"He's ill, that's all. When the heating works better, he'll improve."

The old man snorts and looks at Jenos, who's sitting in the weak sunlight leaking in through the dusty window. Every breath Jenos takes rattles in his chest and he can't lay down to sleep without coughs from deep in his chest that sound like they jar every fibre in him.

"Take him out more. The outside air will knock it right out of him."

Jenos rubs his aching chest and doesn't reply. Nizer hasn't been able to get any medicine to soothe it for the other man; the only medicine he has can only take the edge off the pain that still lingers in his leg.

"He can't go out. It's not safe for him."

This time the old man laughs.

"Of course he can. He's young; young men should be out working and making a living, not scrounging off of their friends."

Nizer sees Jenos wilt slightly and he feels a swell of sympathy in his chest; he can understand how Jenos is feeling all too well.

He can't explain their situation to this old man. Besides, word was beginning to get out about him and his attitude towards the Apostles; it was nearly time to move again.

* * *

_then somebody laughs like it's all just for hell__  
__as though we could not be saved from the depth of the well_

* * *

The laughter that can be heard from across the park comes from a gaggle of teenagers, mostly boys. Jenos watches them from the bench he's waiting on; he looks almost surprised that these teens are acting like nothing has changed, like there hasn't been a sudden regime change just the next city over that threatens Jenos's very life.

Nizer stands a little way off, smoking. He keeps a close eye on Jenos; this is Jenos's first venture out of their apartment since early winter the last year. The mid-spring air might be warm but there's still pollen and dust in the air. After being ill for the best part of three months, Nizer can't help but worry that it's doing Jenos more harm than good.

He drops his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out before making his way back over to Jenos. The expression of surprise is gone and has been replaced by one that's content, almost serene. Nizer nudges Jenos's shoulder before sitting down alongside him.

"You feeling all right?"

"Much better. Should have come out before."

Nizer leans back and looks up at the sky.

"Maybe."

* * *

_but the cloth that i make is a cloth you can sell__  
__to pay for the gossamer seed_

* * *

Even in this city, relatively free from Apostles for now, people speak about Chronos Numbers with such bile that Nizer finds himself checking to see that the medical patch he covers his tattoo with every day is still there. Everyone thinks he's dead; the Apostles do, anyway, if their radio broadcasts are anything to go by.

Jenos, however, is not so fortunate. No one in the city would know he's an ex-Number but the Apostles on the lookout know who he is and that would make work for him impossible.

Instead, he picks up a hobby that makes him feel somewhat productive around the apartment. At the very least, it means that their blankets and clothes can be quickly repaired.

"Didn't peg you as the sewing type."

Jenos hums softly as he measures out some of the fabric that Nizer's brought back for him to work with.

"It's easy enough. And it gives me something to do without going out and getting caught."

Jenos nods towards the pile of second hand clothes that he's repaired as best he could, his stitching near unnoticeable.

"You can sell those, if you want. There's got to be someone who'll take them."

Nizer messes Jenos's hair before examining some of the clothes.

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

_names get carved in the red oak tree__  
__of the ones who stay and the ones who leave_

* * *

They've had to move again. The owner got too suspicious, asking too many questions about why they'd moved from their previous apartment, who Jenos was and where they'd come from.

Nizer had handed in their moving notice as soon as possible. Jenos hadn't even had a chance to leave his mark to tell the other Numbers that they'd been there.

It's late autumn. The new place is found in a towering block of flats in inner Cashmere. Nizer feels a slight pang of annoyance that they'd had to leave Desburg in such a rush; they'd actually managed to settle in there with Nizer's job and Jenos's improving health. Having to start all over again was not something he was looking forward to.

There's a small circle of grass in between their block of flats and the second. In the centre of the grass is a tall, spreading oak tree. The leaves have all turned a reddish-brown and are falling down. Jenos stands underneath the tree, running his fingers over the trunk.

Jenos is no longer favouring his left leg and his chest has started to clear up. The flat they have here is larger than the last, with a proper heating system and double-glazed windows; if Jenos's health turns again, at least he won't be living in the cold.

Nizer joins Jenos under the tree, setting their bags down at his feet. Jenos turns to look at him, a slight grin pulling at his mouth.

"Things might finally start going right."

Nizer smiles back at him. He's never held hope in much regard.

"You say that every time."

But maybe, just maybe, Jenos is right. Maybe Cashmere will be different.

* * *

_i will wait for you there with these cindered bones__  
__so follow me follow me down_

* * *

"You'll never guess who's looking for us."

"Who?"

"Baldor. And your Rinslet."

Jenos stares at Nizer for a moment, nothing but disbelief in his expression. And then it changes. It's something like a mix of relief and utter joy.

His Rinslet. Another Number (even if it was Baldor.) Nizer feels like he couldn't have brought better news.

"How do you know?"

"Sweepers in the Cinderblock. She's apparently been hunting for a while. You should come down with me next time, hear for yourself."

Jenos looked down at the oak tree in the courtyard, his pen knife at his side.

"I told you one of the others would find us."


End file.
